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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24283474">4 Calling Birds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Percygranger/pseuds/Percygranger'>Percygranger</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The 12 Days of Kinkmas [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Sherlock is a Brat, Sort Of, The Scientific Method</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:36:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24283474</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Percygranger/pseuds/Percygranger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John is very far away, and Sherlock is very clever.</p><p>(Written in 2014)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The 12 Days of Kinkmas [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/156215</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>4 Calling Birds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>John wasn’t here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sherlock hadn’t been paying attention lately. They were between cases. He’d gotten lost in his own head. When John hadn’t fetched his pen for twelve hours, he’d wondered, but not really cared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then John had skyped him to remind him to eat. John only did that when he was far away. Therefore, John wasn’t here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sherlock smiled, pleased with his deduction, then the rest of the implications of that caught up with him. If John wasn’t here, who would follow him on cases and give him tea and answer his phone? Sherlock’s brow crinkled, then his mouth opened as his magnificent brain provided a solution. He’d just have to tell John to come home. Of course. He was a genius.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He promptly texted John with his instructions, tapping his fingers when John didn’t reply immediately. In fact, John didn’t reply for an entire 33 minutes. Sherlock was halfway through a hypothesis on whether leaning forward or backwards let him think better when John finally responded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And refused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh. That was a problem. Sherlock did know John was a separate entity from himself, and did technically have free will. He didn’t approve of this, of course. He’d just have to rely on his vast repertoire of manipulative skills.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But we could have sex.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sherlock sent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No we couldn’t.</span>
  </em>
  <span> John replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What? Sherlock was quite confused now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t be silly. Of course we could.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Meeting now, text later.</span>
  </em>
  <span> John sent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sherlock frowned deeply. What in the world could be more important to John then their relationship? He’d done his very best to make it a rewarding endeavor, not to mention a sexually pleasurable one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>John, I am more important than a meeting.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>John, answer me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>John! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s an emergency.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In my pants. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Answer meeeee…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John didn’t respond for the rest of the night. Sherlock was discomfited. And aroused. Thinking about John inevitably seemed to cause that. He wanked half-heartedly, but doing it upside-down and without John didn’t really feel quite right and he didn’t feel like moving. And John wasn’t replying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d just have to call, then, Sherlock supposed. He could feel his lips peel back in disgust at the thought. Calling people was so tedious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The weak morning sunlight suddenly appearing through a break in the clouds, Sherlock dialed John’s phone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John answered!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You fucking twat. It’s five am. If you don’t have a good reason for this I will rain hell upon you for the next week, just see if I don’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sherlock shivered pleasantly at the anger in John’s voice. John in a dudgeon was quite the turn-on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I missed you.” Sherlock replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...” John seemed to be choking slightly, then he sighed deeply. “I can’t tell if that counts. If you miss me again, call during fucking business hours, okay? I’m still at my conference in Wales and I need sleep if I’m going to be any good.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Business hours? Sherlock would have to look that up. “Okay!” He said cheerily. “But since you’re awake, maybe we could have phone sex?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John’s groan had a distinctly aggravated sound. Sherlock shifted on the couch, feeling his arousal grow. “No.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m going back to bed. And I have half a mind to tell you you can’t come until I tell you to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sherlock’s mouth dropped open, and he drew in a quick breath, letting out a light moan. “That sounds amazing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John groaned. “You fucker, now I’m awake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Phone sex…” Sherlock trailed off invitingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” John’s voice had a vindictive bent that Sherlock felt was entirely too hot…at least when aimed at other people. “You did this, you suffer for it. You think it sounds good to wait ‘til I give you permission to come? Fine. I’ll call you back later.” The phone beeped and went silent in Sherlock’s ear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked at the screen to double check, and John had, indeed, hung up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, this could be interesting…” He mused, looked at the tent of his pants. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*&amp;*&amp;*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sherlock didn’t actually mean to wait. He’s bad at waiting. Patience has never been one of his virtues. Self-denial is, though. And it’s genuinely interesting, the feelings that are occurring now. Sherlock’s never had a long-term sexual partner. He’s not had many partners of any kind, period. And John would like it if he waited, Sherlock is almost certain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he does. Devises a small questionnaire for himself regarding arousal over time denied. Charts the various ups and downs. Realizes he’s getting far too aroused thinking about arousal and tries to distract himself with other things. Solves a few cases. Runs through the questionnaire on the hour. Unsurprisingly finds his restlessness and want increasing with time and attention paid to the subject. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time John calls back Sherlock’s worked himself into a state.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“John,” Sherlock utters, “If you don’t let me come I may break up with you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John blinks. “You...actually did it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was for science.” Sherlock holds up his charts. “As you can see, my arousal over time is not constant, but it is showing a significant growth-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright, you fucking…” John shakes his head. “You’re amazing and you can definitely come.” His cheeks look redder than usual. Sherlock wants to investigate it but the needs of his body (especially now that he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>talked to John</span>
  </em>
  <span> about his arousal, for God’s sake) overcome the mild curiousity. Although…John is here, he could do both. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sherlock slides a hand down his body, pushing aside the robe he was wearing. “Why are you blushing?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John snorts. “I am not blushing, you fucker. You just spring the fact that you decided to </span>
  <em>
    <span>wait</span>
  </em>
  <span> on me… You surprised me, is all.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sherlock grins. He knows this. John only blusters when there’s something to hide. “Is that so…” He opens the robe to show half his chest, and makes the direction of this arm more blatant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John’s eyes widen. “Are you seriously- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sherlock.” His blush deepens. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sherlock lets himself get into it, stroking himself long and slow, letting his eyes flutter closed with a satisfied hum at finally getting to touch. He hears John choke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You cannot be fucking serious.” John mutters. “Sherlock.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“John,” Sherlock breathes, smiling at the camera, “wish you were here to help. But you just had to leave, apparently.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John’s swearing gets too quiet for the microphone to pick up. Sherlock wanks to the rhythm of it, keeping an eye out for anything unexpected. Because John is always doing something he doesn’t quite expect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” John finally says. “Go ahead and wank, you earned it. Just see how long I make you wait next time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sherlock shudders at the idea, the image of it. “God, yes.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be home in just a few days, Sherlock. Will you want it more then? I’ll be right there, reminding you of just what you can’t have, can’t touch.” John’s gaze was filthy and intense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sherlock was reminded why people liked John’s silly blog. He occasionally had a way with words. “Yes, yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I’ll touch you a bit, get you riled up, and then hold your wrists, hmm? Make it so you can’t touch, even if I say you can.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Sherlock’s hand speeds up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I could even fuck you like that, leave you hard and aching, wanting it so bad but not allowed…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sherlock comes, semen spurting on his chest. He groans and works himself through the aftershocks. He leans back, breath slowing, looking with hooded eyes at the camera.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John smiles back, and laughs shakily. “We might actually have to do that now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-” Sherlock clears his throat when his voice comes out cracked, “I agree. Come home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John sighs. “Two more days, Sherlock.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sherlock pouts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. “You’ll survive.” He cuts the connection. </span>
</p>
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